Nick of Time
by helium man
Summary: AU. He doubted anyone remembered him; he never really did stand out much. - a most likely cliched 'Harry goes back in time and meets Tom Riddle'.
1. Prologue

**disclaimer **As far as I am concerned, I don't own anything from the Harry Potter franchise. At least I don't think I do.

**warnings **_possible _slash in later chapters. you decide.  
>this isn't beta'd.<br>rating may change to M, I doubt it though.

**also note **that my writing style is currently under going a... wierd phase. Kind of. Yeah.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The thought came to him out of nowhere; and suddenly he was attacked with a sudden barrage of images. All of them consisting of a dark, messy haired boy, pale and thin, with eyes as green as the Avada Kedavra.

He was the only other Slytherin that came from an orphanage, the only other Slytherin that had been raised by _muggles_. In a way, they were similar to the other. They were both intelligent, self-preserving, they even grew up together. But they were more different than same. He was ambitious, he was charming, he manipulated most of the Hogwarts students and staff, _he stood out_. And him? Looking back, he didn't seem like much of a Slytherin, especially when compared to him. He was more Gryffindor, and he assumed he would he would be sorted there. But he wasn't.

He was sorted into Slytherin, with him, instead of Gryffindor, where he would of been more welcomed. He expected him to stand out, like himself, being as _different_ as he was. But he didn't, he merely faded into the background. And no one paid a second mind to the fact, not even that old coot Dumbledore.

Looking into the small baby's green eyes brought back memories, memories from when he was still a child. Memories from the orphanage, from Hogwarts. Memories that he didn't even know he had. Then again; his memory had always been good, if not excellent. He theorised that the memory had been stored somewhere in the back of his mind, along with many others.

He narrowed his eyes at the baby, and he frowned at the sudden realization of how much the child resembled _him._ He had forgotten- no, it was just that he had not thought about him for years, because he did not _forget_. Suddenly the baby looked up, and red eyes met green. The small child tilted its head to the side, smiling upwards at him, as if he _knew_ something. And as he pointed the wand at the baby, preparing to utter the curse - the one so similar to his eyes - the

"Avada Kedavra."

The world around him spun.

-x-

"This," Mrs. Cole started, immediately silencing all the chatter in the dining room. She gestured towards a small boy that was standing besides of her. He was short, lean, with pale skin, and messy black hair. Over all he looked unkempt, his clothes almost twice his size, making him look smaller than he already was. "Is Harry Evans." The chatter started again, this time the main subject being the new boy. Mrs. Cole ignore it, instead opting to place a reassuring hand on the new boy's shoulder. She led him past many rows of tables and chairs, past most of the orphans and towards a seat further along in the back. And as she lead him towards another dark haired boy, Mrs. Cole could only hope that she had made the right decision.

Tom Riddle was a strange boy. Things, strange and unnatural things, happened whenever he was around. She had by no means had wanted to place Harry with the boy at first. But after hearing from Harry's previous caretakers that the boy was also quite... unnatural, she had decided otherwise. And with her experience with Tom, she could not help herself but suspect that Harry would be a bad seed too. And Harry had seemed like such a nice boy. But perhaps, by placing the both together, they would bond. And they would balance the other out. Then she wouldn't have to worry about Tom scaring the other children any more.

-x-

"Mr. Riddle," Tom Riddle looked up to see the orphanage matron eye him threateningly, a single hand placed on the new child's - Evans, right? - shoulder. "Ensure that Mr. Evans is settled in, will you?" Tom pursed his lips, obviously unwilling to do so, but nodded nonetheless, knowing that he had no other choice. He wondered why Mrs. Cole would place Evans with him, anyway. She knew more than all the others how he was, and yet... "He'll be staying with you, mind." Mrs. Cole took her hand of Evans shoulder, who then proceeded to sit besides of Tom. Mrs. Cole left after.

"Tom. Tom Riddle." Tom unwillingly introduced himself, holding out a hand. It wouldn't hurt to be polite, would it?

The boy smiled sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. "Harry Evans." He replied, his voice sounding strangely hoarse. Tom wondered if he had a cough, since sickness wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Tom retracted his hand; he would not want to get any diseases from Evans, medicine being as scarce as it was. And he also doubted that any one would take care of him if he ever got sick. Evans had not even seem too notice he had even took his hand out, let alone that he had taken it back.

"Just Harry?" Tom asked, tilting his head, distracting him from noticing his retreating hand.

Harry flashed him a small - strangely bitter - smile. "Yeah. Just Harry."

* * *

><p><strong>an** If anyone can help me think of a better title for this fiction, please tell me. I'm not very good at titles, unlike some other FF authors *shakes fists at them*

Other than that, reviews, comments, critiques, etc. would be loved.

feel free to point out anything you don't like.

**edit: **Erm. Yes, I have changed this to 'prologue'. Kinda is one, anyway ;; o u o

whenever a review isn't made, one harry potter becomes straight and gets it on with ginny. :I  
>joking!<p> 


	2. Chapter One

**disclaimer** i don't own Harry Potter? no me gusta.

**warnings **possible slash in later chapters. Most likely TRHP.  
>rating may change in the future.<br>this is not beta-ed.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Each room in the orphanage was built to accommodate the needs of at least two people. The room's were all coloured a dull gray, fitting the colour scheme of the whole orphanage. The only source of light available in each room was a small light bulb hanging on from the ceiling in the centre of the room, and a small window that lay opposite to the door. Each room had a clock, a wardrobe, a desk, a chair and in most cases, two to three beds. In Tom's case, before Harry Evans had arrived at least, there was only one bed. Tom had his own room since no one had been willing to share with him.

He remembered about it being something about the other children not wanting to be anywhere near him, and so he wondered why the case was different with Evans.

"You'll be taking that bed." Tom drawled to Evans as they entered a small room, pointing towards a bed that had a small suitcase on top of it. Earlier that day he had wondered why there was another bed in his room, but had never gotten a chance to question the matrons on it. Evans' bed had been pushed into a corner, and looked as if it hadn't been used in ages. It probably hadn't.

"Erm. Okay. Thanks, Tom." Evans said, nodding gratefully at him. Tom hummed in response, and made his way towards his own bed. He took out a book and began reading, every once in a while shifting his gaze towards Evans, who was busy unpacking his things.

Tom frowned at him. He didn't like sharing anything, not even when what he was supposed to share wasn't even his. He wondered briefly if perhaps he scared Evans enough, the boy would go to Mrs. Cole and complain to her about wanting to change rooms. That wouldn't work out well, though. Mrs. Cole had left Evans in his care, which meant that no harm as to come on to him, unless Tom wanted to get punished. And Tom didn't like getting punished - it made him feel weak, and pathetic.

But Tom supposed he wouldn't mind much if Evans didn't disturb him.

-x-

Both Harry and Tom rarely ever talked to each other, despite staying in the same room. They spoke to the other only to exchange small greetings, such as 'hello's' and 'good mornings' and the like, out of courtesy over everything else. Sometimes they discussed school work as well. But never just for the sake of it. Harry had tried, of course, at first to chat up Tom, but the boy always ended up ignored. So it came as a shock, albeit a pleasant one, when she saw the both of them talking together a week later after Harry had moved in.

She smiled contentedly, satisfied that the two were becoming friends, and hoped that neither got into trouble together.

It was mid-day. The sky was clear, the weather nice, and overall it was a perfect day to go outside. And as Mrs. Cole wanted the children to get some sun, instead of causing a ruckus and making a mess inside the orphanage, the orphans were practically thrown outside while she watched them from inside her office, finishing up her paperwork for the month.

-x-

"Tom?" Tom jumped, turning around to glare at whoever disturbed his chat. "What?" Tom hissed, making sure that he switched languages to English. "I was wondering what you were doing." The boy asked, curious, though for some inane reason, Tom suspected that the boy knew, in fact, what he was doing.

"None of your business," Tom frowned, looking at the boy that had disturbed him; and as it turned out, it was his room mate. Tom realized that he hadn't spoken to him in quite awhile, not that he often did.

_"Masssster, who iss the boy?" _Tom glanced back at the garden snake he had been talking to, before Evans had disturbed them. Tom hissed out a quiet command for the snake to be silent, and to leave for now. He also added for the snake to return to him soon, once he took care of the boy. The snake, if it was even possible, snorted as if it was offended. But it obeyed nonetheless, and slithered away.

"If you'll excuse me, _thanks a lot for disturbing me._" Tom hissed the last part out, glaring at Evans, who was frowning. But as Tom stood up, patted the dirt off his pants, and walked away, he could of sworn that he heard Evans hiss back a reply.

_"Whatever."_

His voice had been barely audible, and Tom had almost missed it. But he didn't, and although when he turned back Evans was already gone, Tom knew then that there was something different about his seemingly innocent room mate.

-x-

"_Psst. Dennis. Dennis!_" Denis Bishop jumped, startled at the sound of his name being said so harshly. He turned around, and met the gaze of a rather jumpy looking Harry Evans. "Harry?" Dennis said, looking confused. Harry smiled sheepishly at him, and tugged Dennis's arm from the hem of his sleeve.

"_Come on!_" Harry urged, pulling Dennis towards a small storage room. Dennis followed him behind Harry, wondering what the younger boy was doing.

Harry closed the door behind him, and stared at Dennis, who suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. There was something Dennis couldn't quite place with Harry Evans; he reminded Dennis of Riddle at times, but at others, he was the complete opposite of him. And it confused him. "What do you need me for, Harry?" He asked curiously, watching as Harry fidgeted nervously in front of him.

"Dennis, you've been here longer than I have, right?" Harry asked, and Dennis nodded. He'd been at the orphanage for five years, but why would Harry be asking him that?

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need to ask- to ask you something."

"What do you need? Do you need help with something? Is there something troubling you?" Dennis asked, but Harry shook his head.

"Actually, its about Tom. Tom Riddle." Harry said, and Dennis visibly flinched. Well, no surprises there. Riddle was, to put it simply, scary. And Harry - the poor guy - shared a room with him. And though as much as Dennis wanted to help Harry, Riddle was just too freaky. He wouldn't even of lasted a day in Harry's position. Dennis had used to mess with Riddle a few times when they were kids, though that had proved to be a wrong move on his part.

"Sorry, Harry, I can't-" Dennis began, but Harry interrupted him.

"I'm not asking for help." Harry said, waving both of his arms in a gesture that said 'no'. "Just questions."

Dennis gave him the oddest look he could manage. "Questions? I suppose that's fine." He said, then reconsidered his words. "But what if Riddle overhears us? He doesn't like people talking behind his back, you know." He stated nervously, glancing around the room as if Riddle would appear magically out of nowhere. And he wouldn't be surprised if he actually did.

Harry grinned cheekily at him. "Don't worry - Tom's outside reading a book. I checked."

Dennis blinked. "Oh. Okay. What do you want to ask, then?"

"Well. Tom is... How do I say this? Strange, yeah. I wanted to, you know, know more about him." Harry paused. "So what do you know of him?"

"Know of him?" He said, and looked around the room again to make sure that no one was eavesdropping or spying them. You can never be too sure, especially with Riddle. "You're not going to tell this to anyone, right? Especially not Riddle."

Harry looked strangely at him. "Of course not."

"Okay, good." Dennis said, sighing in relief. "Well. All I know is that he's been here, like, forever. He likes books. And, erm, he doesn't eat as much as the others. He's quiet, and doesn't like to talk with the others much. We don't know much about him, not really. That's it, I guess." Dennis said, shrugging.

"That's... it? That's all? Are you sure?" Harry questioned_._

"Yeah." Dennis said, nodding.

"That can't be it. Come on, Dennis." Harry pleaded, using the best puppy-dog look he was able to muster.

Dennis faltered, wanting to look at anything _but_ the boy standing in front of him right now. And Tom, he didn't want to look at him. "Please - don't push this. I... I'm not allowed to say, if he finds out, I'll-"

"He _won't._" Harry reassured, pushing him to continue.

"You promise you won't tell _anyone_, right?" Dennis said, fear evident in his voice.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Promise."

"If he finds out I said this..." Dennis sighed, rubbing his neck. "He does things. Y-you know what I mean, right?"

"I think I do." Harry said, not exactly knowing what Dennis meant. "He does strange things, I guess."

"Yeah." He nodded. "What I'm trying to say is that- well. The things he does. Its not normal."

"What do you mean?"

"Most of us are scared of him. Especially the younger kids. Even some of the older kids are too. He doesn't do much to us, unless we start first. But... what he does is..." He faltered for a moment, before continuing. "When he does the things he does- its scary." Dennis shuddered, remembering a particular memory he _didn't_ want to remember. "Things break, and he's nowhere _near_ them. He can make things move without even touching them, its... I don't know!" Dennis growled, and Harry stared at him, never having seen the boy like this before.

"Listen, Harry. You shouldn't hang out around him much. Don't go about questioning about him, either. He'll know if you do. I told you, he doesn't like people talking behind his back. And he has a way of knowing, well, everything." Dennis warned, frowning. "Try to not be on his bad side. Don't make him angry. Ignore him, if you can. We all do, most of us do. If you ignore him, he'll ignore you. That's the way it goes."

Dennis glanced back at the door that stood behind him, and took a step backwards. "I should get going soon. See ya, Harry." Dennis exited the room before Harry could speak up.

-x-

"Tom?" Tom was hit by a strong sense of deja vu. He recognized that voice, though he deeply wondered what Evans of all people was doing out of bed so late at night. Perhaps he had been to noisy and woken him up? Evans was a light sleeper. That much he knew. But Tom had been extra quiet when sneaking out, he had made sure of that. Tom turned swiftly around on his heels, eyeing the messy haired boy suspiciously.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Tom asked, and Evans shrugged.

"I could ask the same thing about you." He countered, taking a cautious step forward.

"I couldn't sleep." Tom said, wondering why he wasn't just ignoring Evans instead of making small talk. "What's your excuse?"

"I couldn't either." Evans said, and Tom nodded, unable to bring himself to care.

Tom didn't reply after that, choosing instead to be silent. For a few more minutes, the only noises being made were paced breathing, and the occasional awkward shuffling of feet from Evans. Another minute later Evans spoke, seemingly uncomfortable in the silence. "I've seen how the other kids look at you, you know." Tom glanced at him, wondering what Evans was saying. Oh, he knew what he was talking about, of course, but not _why _he was bringing the subject up. "They're afraid. Because you do things to them."

"Do I?" Tom questioned, arching an amused eyebrow.

"Yeah. You do." Evans snapped back irritatedly. "You do things to them - that's why they're so afraid of you." Evans paused. "You hurt them. They're scared of you. But I'm guessing you already knew that?" When Tom didn't reply, he continued. "I'm worried."

Tom blinked in surprise. "Worried?" He repeated, looking sceptically at him. "About them?"

Evans looked at him strangely. "No. Well, yes. But... Not just them."

"And who else, then?" Tom asked, leaning forward.

"You, of course." Evans said, frowning. "Who else?"

"Me?" Tom asked, sounding doubtful. He asked him again. "Why?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Evans retorted. "I've seen what you do, Tom. I'm not afraid." Evans said, taking a daring step forward.

"What have I done?"

"You hurt the other kids!" Evans hissed.

"Do I?" Tom said again, glaring at Evans.

"Yes. And you don't scare me." Evans said, though he looked like he was.

"Why not?"

"Because-" He faltered.

"Because?" Tom urged him, wondering what he was going to say. Because he was evil and would be brought to justice? Please.

"Sometimes, it happens to me too." He sighed out. Tom blinked, the answer he was given was unexpected. "When I get really mad. I don't do it often - not as often as you, but it happens. Sometimes, things happen. To me... And to them."

"I'm not following." Tom said, but it was an obvious lie.

Evans didn't seem to notice, since his head was bowed, looking at the ground below him. "Once, at my old school, some older kids were chasing me. I was running away from them, and I was cornered into an alley. They were closing in, and I remember thinking that I wanted to get away from them... and then all of a sudden I did, I was on the roof. I didn't know how I got there." Evans shrugged.

"That's all?" Tom said, clearly disappointed. He had done that too, once. Scared the wits out of the Benson girl. He smirked at the memory.

"No." Evans said, and Tom's interest was peaked again. "I broke a window once, too. I was nowhere near it. I was fighting with one of the kids, and I remember being angry at him - and all of a sudden, the window breaks." He frowned. "I get scared whenever those things happened. It isn't normal for anyone to do that." He looked up expectantly at Tom. "You are too, aren't you?"

Tom barely refrained himself from laughing at the boy. Scared? Him? No. He wasn't scared. He wasn't _naive_ or _moral_ like Evans was, he didn't care that he hurt people. Not any more. He wasn't scared of whatever he did, of course he wasn't. At first he might of; but that was only natural. And even then he was more piqued by what he did than scared.

After some experiments, and continual use, he began to use whatever it was that he did for his own gains, on a regular basis. People _feared_ him now. They didn't bother him any more, and Tom liked it that way. The other kids did whatever he wanted them to do, without - or with almost no - complaint. And most of the matrons left him alone, too.

"No." Tom said finally. "There's no point in being afraid, after all."

"But its not normal!" Evans protested, quite loudly. Tom threw him a glare, reminding him that they weren't in their rooms, where at least there they wouldn't be heard, but in the open hallways where someone could find them. And worse case scenario, it would be Mrs. Cole. They weren't even supposed to be having this conversation, especially not after curfew. Evans frowned, mumbled a small apology, and continued in lighter volume. "And... You hurt people. The adults say that we shouldn't hurt other people. Its bad."

Tom pursed his lips, beginning to find Evans' naivety starting to become more annoying than it was amusing. "Hurting other people is bad? And you believe them?"

Evans looked bewildered. "What? Of course I do. Its _bad_ to hurt others!"

Tom snorted. "There is no good or bad, Evans." He snarled, walking past Evans as he made his way back to their room."I- or we, as much as I loathe to admit, have a power that none of the others have. If what you were saying actually did happen, of course."

Tom stopped abruptly in his tracks, startling Evans who had been following close behind him. "We have a special kind of power, and guess what? They _don't_. Don't you see? We are above them. _They_ are the ones that should be afraid of _us_. Not the other way around."

Evans opened his mouth, getting ready to argue with him. Well, he would of, had not Tom interrupted him before he could let out a sound. "There is only power, Evans, and those too weak to seek it." Tom said with finality, and entered their room, heading towards his bed.

Evans followed him inside, closing the door shut behind them as quickly and as silently as he could. Tom covered himself in blankets, resting his head on his pillow, ignoring Evans for the mean time, and promptly fell asleep.

-x-

Harry frowned. He would continue his discussion with Tom tomorrow, then. The boy yawned as he made his way towards his bed. Harry plopped himself ungracefully onto the bed, pulling the fluffy blanket over his shoulder. What Tom had said made him think, though. Perhaps... Perhaps he was right. That he- they- were special, and the other kids weren't. But that didn't give Tom an excuse to treat others like they were below him! Right?

Harry needed to think more about this.

* * *

><p><strong>an **em. thanks for all who added this... thing to their alerts/fav's. And to those who reviewed. ;; o u o  
>I want more though. Reviews, I mean. they make me feel better 'bout myself. shot.

Anyway, last chapter was more prologue than anything, so i changed it into one :I  
>as in i edited the 'chapter one' part. problam?<br>Anyway, longer chapter this time c:  
>I am writing the next chapter as you read this.<p>

Will update soon, hopefully!

whenever a review isn't made, draco becomes more of a queer than he usually is. :I  
>nawp im joking!<p> 


	3. Chapter Two

**disclaimer** i don't own Harry Potter? no me gusta.

**warnings **possible slash in later chapters. Most likely TRHP.  
>rating may change in the future.<br>this is not beta-ed.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Tom was acting as if nothing had happened between the both of them, like last night had never even occurred. Then again, to him, last night was probably nothing. Perhaps it was only Harry that had been affected by the whole thing? Only him that had been influenced by the other's words. He wondered if Tom was thinking right now- wait, no, that was a silly thought. Tom was always thinking. He wondered _what_ Tom was thinking about right now. Had what he said to him the previous night affected him in anyway? Changed him?

He doubted it. Something about Tom told him that he would never change.

But he could at least _try_, couldn't he?

Harry knew it was bad to hurt others. It wasn't like they deserved it! Did they? Tom had said that it was because they were different; but he knew that they were different. They could do things, like _magic_. But that didn't give him a right or an excuse to hurt other people!

Harry sighed, sticking another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Speaking about different, he wished that the matrons would serve something _other_ than soup. Everyday its soup - corn soup, potato soup, tomato soup! Soup and bread, soup and bread, day after day after _day_.

Harry grumbled. Next to him, Amy Benson giggled. "Its not that bad, Harry." She chirped, dipping her piece of bread into her soup. "You'll get used to it - and besides, its better than nothing, right?" A few kids who heard her nodded.

"Yeah. Sure." Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Anyway," Amy said, leaning over to whisper into his ear. "I think Riddle's mad at one of us. He's been sending these weird looks this way, and it's beginin' to creep me out." Amy shuddered. Harry blinked, and glanced over to where Tom was, who was currently looking at his direction. Harry made to stand to greet his room mate, but was quickly - and hardly - elbowed on his ribs.

"Ouch! What-" Harry protested, but Amy shot him a look.

"Don't look at him!" She whispered harshly, and Harry quickly shut up. "You don't look at him. You don't talk to him. You ignore him, Harry, that is if you don't want to get hurt."

"He's not going to hurt me." Harry reassured, but Amy looked doubtful.

"He's probably an exception, you know - being his room mate and all that." Dennis Bishop started from across of Harry. "You're friends with Riddle, aren't you? I saw you talking a few days ago."

Harry shrugged. "We're not exactly _friends_. We just talk, you know, about stuff. I don't think he likes me very much."

Dennis snorted, and Harry blushed, not used to being laughed at by anyone.

"Riddle doesn't like _anyone_. You're not alone, Harry." Amy piped up, smiling as she bit off a piece of her soup-soaked bread.

"Why do you guys call him Riddle, anyway?" Harry asked, feeling a need to change the subject. He had always wondered why, because he had always called him Tom, and Tom never seemed to mind. Maybe he had been slightly miffed at first, when Tom had shot him a glare when he first called him by his first name, but then Tom had stopped caring after awhile.

"He doesn't allow anyone to call him his first name." Amy explained.

"But he seem's all right when I do it." Harry said, not really understanding.

"Well, it might be 'cause you're his room mate. Or something." Dennis said, and added slightly jokingly, his voice high-pitched and girlish: "But why doesn't he like it when I do it?"

Both Amy and Harry smiled amusedly at him, causing Dennis to grin.

"Speaking of what he _doesn't_ like, lets stop talking about im, yeah?" Amy suggested, and Dennis could only nod in agreement.

Harry took the chance to change the subject. "Yeah. Okay. So anyway, Mrs. Cole is bringing us to town today, right?"

-x-

The children arrived in town after a short five minute walk. Usually the kids weren't allowed off the orphanage's grounds, but every few weeks or so, if the children behaved, and if a matron had some spare time, they would be take into town.

It was in that particular week that Mrs. Cole had some free time, and so took the children out for a change of scenery, knowing how dull Wool's could be. Only the older children had been brought along, since the matrons didn't trust the younger ones to be able to take care of themselves. The children were usually left to tend to their own, Mrs. Cole trusting them to find their way back if they got lost.

The orphans were given pocket money to spend each week, though what they were given were never much. A months worth of pocket money would only get a child a few pieces of candy, but to most of them, that was enough.

-x-

"Evans." Tom called out, startling Harry and his friends. Harry turned around, and smiled weakly at Tom, who in turn cocked his head to the side. Amy shifted nervously from his side, and Dennis looked worriedly at Harry, looking as if Harry was going to be eaten alive. Harry smiled reassuringly at them, and made his way towards Tom.

"We'll meet up later, all right guys?" He said, looking back at them. "You guys can go look around without me." Both Dennis and Amy hesitated for a moment, before they nodded, and waved good bye at Harry. They took their leave, leaving Harry alone with Tom.

"Is there anything you need Tom?" Harry asked.

"Follow me." Tom said, and without waiting for a reply, promptly walked away. Harry stood bewildered for a moment, before nodding slowly to himself and running after Tom to catch up with him.

They past various shops as they went, along with many groups of adults and children running about with their friends. There were a few interesting looking shops as they passed them by, but Harry never got the chance to see what they were, since Tom walked faster than him, and Harry almost had to run to catch up with him. And luckily Harry was quite fast runner, and so had no problems keeping up with Tom.

They began walking further away from the town, and towards a rather wide street, where various stalls were put up along the walls of it. The most common goods the stalls sold were foods, such as vegetables, fruits, fish and meat. The place was like a maze, and it was _packed_ with people buying things and talking to each other and bargaining and selling things and-

Suddenly he was pulled leftwards towards a smaller, and _much_ less crowded street. Harry panicked, not knowing who had pulled him, and then breathed out a sigh of relief when he realized that it was _Tom _that had grabbed him.

"What was that for?" Harry breathed, still in slight shock, as Tom removed his hold on Harry. Tom stayed silent, and slowly began to walk away, his back turned to Harry. Harry, in turn, frowned disapprovingly at him. _'What's his problem?'_ Harry muttered to himself, stealing a side way glance at Tom's direction. However Harry said nothing else, and continued following the other boy, this time the at a marginally slower pace.

"Tom." Harry whispered harshly into the boy's ear, looking around worriedly at his surroundings. The street looked... dark_. _And old. And Harry had a bad feeling about the place. The few adults that skulked around had their faces covered, with their hats, their collars, and some even wore shades, and it wasn't even that sunny! "Are you sure we should be here? This place looks... you know, bad."

Tom stopped, and stared at Harry. Toms eyes were mesmerizing, Harry noted to himself. They were large, almost doe-like, and so very _innocent_ looking. Only they weren't very innocent, and if you stared long enough into the obsidian coloured eyes, you would see darkness, darkness and pain and _loneliness_. But then Harry blinked; and Tom looked away.

"Lets go back?" Harry asked, biting his lower lip, suddenly feeling nauseous. "This place is giving me the creeps. Why are we here, anyway?"

Harry hadn't expected an answer from Tom, not really. "Privacy."

"Can't we go be private, you know, somewhere else? Somewhere less..." Harry drifted off, not quite knowing how to put it. "Bad."

"We could." Tom said to him. "But we won't."

Harry frowned. "Why not?" He asked, not seeing the reason why anyone would want to invade their privacy.

"Because. Just because." Tom said, staring at Harry, amusement evident in his voice, before turning away again. "I wanted to speak to you about something, Evans."

"What about?" Harry asked, as Tom led him into a small shop - or at least what looked like one. A small ring of a bell signalled their entrance, and from the counter across of them, an old man came into view. He looked at the both of them, eyes narrowing and scrutinizing, from Harry, where he paused, to Tom, where he gave a crooked smile that showed his old, rotting yellow teeth, and Harry promptly turned away.

"Your... _friends._" Tom began, holding the door out for Harry as he entered. Harry shuddered at the unkempt look of the shop. The place was dusty, dark, and had a slight morbid feel to it. In some ways it reminded Harry of the orphanage, but at least at the orphanage, everything was _clean_. Various books lined the shelves that were pushed back onto the wall of the shop, and littered the floor beneath them. Piles and piles of dusty old books that filled the floor surrounding them were stacked awkwardly on top of the other, looking as if they were about to fall down, if not for an invisible force holding them from it.

"What about them?" Harry said, looking around at his surroundings, as Tom began browsing the various books that adorned the shelves."Is there a point, by the way, with you bringing me to this..."

"Its a library." Tom completed for him.

"Right. Sure. It doesn't look like one." Harry muttered disbelievingly, furrowing his eyebrows as he took a look around the so-called 'library'.

"I suppose not, no. But it is." Tom replied casually, picking up a large book, looking it over, and then placing it back onto the shelf again. "Also, I needed to speak with you. Preferably somewhere private."

"What about?" Harry asked. "And is this _really_ a library? It really doesn't look like one. And what do you mean, private? Anyone could come in here and hear us. And there's that creepy guy from the counter." Harry said to him, frowning as he watched Tom pick up a few books only to place them back down on the shelves again.

"Yes, Evans. It _really is a library_." Tom growled. "And hardly anyone comes by here. I myself have never met anyone during my visits here, and thus I highly doubt we will meet anyone either of us know. The other orphans barely, if not at all, read, anyway. And if they do, they would of gone to the other library, the one located in the centre or the town plaza. I wanted to show you something, anyway. A book that the other library does not posses. And, of course, this library has more interesting books."

Harry blinked dumbly. "Like what?"

"I've checked the library in town, compared them to the books here, and I have yet to find books with as interesting titles and content as the ones this library holds." Tom explained, and moved towards another shelf of books, walking over and ignoring the piles of books on the floor, apparently finished with the first shelf. He scanned the rows of books for a moment, before taking out a small leather-bound book, and handing it to Harry. "Here."

Harry took the book from Tom's outstretched hand, and read the title to himself, at first, and then repeated it again out loud.

"Theory of Magic." Harry read aloud, and immediately after looked upwards unbelievingly at Tom. "You can't be serious. This is fake, right?"

"What do you think?" Tom asked from where he was standing, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Harry looked back down at the book, his eyes narrowing in suspicion at it. He flipped open the cover, and began reading the first page. He closed the book almost immediately, groaning when he saw the tiny words and long, complicated words that were printed upon the pages of the book. "Can't you just explain what this is to me?" Harry asked, and then added: "I don't get it."

"I told you last night, Evans. There is only power; power which _we_ have."

Harry gaped. "And your saying that we have... this power? Magic?"

Tom cocked his head innocently in reply.

-x-

They spent another ten minutes inside the library before Tom decided they needed to get back. Harry didn't protest, having had enough of the bad feeling of the place, and followed Tom dutifully as they walked back towards the town, where Mrs. Cole and a few other children were at. Harry waved towards both Amy's and Denis's direction, ignoring Tom who scowled as he did so. The both of them hesitantly waved back, and Harry smiled.

A few other of the orphans arrived a few minutes after the both of them, and then Mrs. Cole ushered them back towards the orphanage, whereupon both Tom and Harry headed back towards their room.

"I don't like them." Tom voiced up suddenly from his bed, a few feet away from Harry. "Your... _friends_. I do not like them. You should not remain friends with them any more."

"What? No." Harry dead panned, not really needing to think twice (or at all, really) before outwardly refusing Tom's request. What was the guy playing at? And what did he mean, not be friends with them any more? You don't go up to people and just tell them: 'Hey I don't want to be your friend any more. No hard feelings, right?'! Tom had to be joking. The look on Tom's face said otherwise.

"You're serious." Harry stated- asked, whatever.

"What made you think otherwise? Of course I am. I dislike them. You should not remain acquainted with them." Tom said seriously. "I had wanted to discuss with you about this subject when we visited the library, but it seemed we got side-tracked in other matters."

"Yeah. Whatever, Tom. I'm not going to stop being their friends just because you told me too. That's ridiculous. And 'sides, if I'm not friends, or erm, 'acquainted'? Yeah, that, with them, then who else would I be too?"

-x-

Tom paused, pondering for a moment on how he was going to answer Evans' question. Why was the boy so determined to befriend the other children? They were lower than they were. Perhaps it was to give them a false sense of security, only to stab them in the back later on. He doubted the truthfulness of that, though. Evans did not seem the type; but perhaps even that was a trick to fool Tom.

He was over thinking this.

"I suppose," he began, turning to look at Evans. "That you may talk to them, once in awhile." My, How generous he was being today. Evans, however, didn't seem to be too pleased.

In the end, though, Evans merely sighed, and shook his head. "I told you, Tom. I'm not going to stop being friends with them." Once again, Evans refused.

"Why not?" Tom asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. Why was Evans being so persistent about this? He only needed To. He didn't need anyone else.

"Because they're my friends, that's why! And, anyway, you can't tell me what to do. What have they ever done to you, anyway?" Evans grumbled, leaning backwards on the wall besides of his bed.

"None of your business." He hissed, ignoring Evans flinch. A moment later, he spoke again. "They're murderers." Tom said in way of explanation. He didn't think he needed to explain into further detail for Evans. So he didn't.

"That isn't true, Tom." Evans defended his friends, looking abashed that Tom would ever even think that they were.

"But they are." He retaliated. "They killed her." Tom paused, and then added: "My pet."

"Why would they kill your pet?"

"The matrons said she was dangerous." Tom spat, crossing his arms, pointedly looking away from Evans. "But what do they know? She never hurt me. She had merely defended me when I was too weak to do so."

"Oh." Evans shuffled awkwardly from on top of his bed. "Er. Well, if the matrons said she was dangerous, she probably was." More awkward shuffling on Evans' part. "So what was she, your pet, I mean, anyway?"

Tom wondered whether or not he should tell Evans about his... ability. He barely knew the boy, but for some inane reason, his instincts told him that he could trust the other boy. He wasn't going to tell him about his ability, no, not then, but perhaps he would, one of these days, once he had gotten to know him more. Tom released a sigh, and gave the answer to Evans question. "She was a snake."

"Oh." Evans said again.

Tom supposed the boy didn't know what to say next, and so instead, Tom changed the subject. "But we are getting off topic, Evans. As I told you before, I don't like them, and you know the reason why, now. You understand, don't you?"

Tom stared at Evans, who in turn began to fidget nervously on his bed, before finally, with a begrudging sigh, answered. "Fine."

* * *

><p><strong>AN** bahhhh. this... this, er, took a long time to get out. ; n ;  
>im sorry. erm. i kind of ended it there because it looked like a good place to end it. so, yeah.<p>

but anyways, I've been reading The Great Gatsby. And I must say I love it. :I  
>GO. READ IT. NOW.<br>ahaha. Nick and Gatsby - sitting on a tree - K-I-S-S-I-N-G. /shott.  
>The pairing is just so friggin' adore-able. squeal.<p>

'nyways. Reviews are loved, etc.  
>Thanks for all that added this who added this to their alertsfav's/etc.  
>And to those that reviewed, of course c: Especially them. Always.<p>

Whenever a review is not made, Neville Longbottom reverses himself and becomes a wimp,  
>instead of the bloody BAMF he actually is.<br>As usual, joking!


	4. Chapter Three

**disclaimer **_fan _fiction. that is all.

**warnings **possible slash in later chapters. Most likely TRHP.  
>rating may change in the future.<br>this is not beta-ed.

**note **I might not update in a while, 'cause I am going oversea's for around two, three weeks tops. so apologies in advance.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Days passed quickly at Wools Orphanage. Minutes turned into hours, hours quickly turned into days, days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. And when Harry finally took notice of how the days seemed to fly by so quickly, it was already November; October had already passed by a few weeks previous.

It was snowing outside. The previously neatly-trimmed front lawn of Wools Orphanage was now covered in a white blanket of soft white snow. There were no signs of life outside of the birds flying overhead and the occasional person walking by the orphanage out on the streets, bringing along with them their pets, or children, or even another person, but mostly, though - they walked alone.

Harry was outside, as well, by his lonesome. And for once, Tom wasn't with him. Harry didn't know where the other boy was, and for some reason or other he hadn't bothered to try and look for him that day.

Neither Amy or Dennis were with him, either - but Harry had stopped talking to them weeks ago, due to a rather awkward conversation with Tom, mostly on his part. Neither Amy or Dennis had looked or seemed surprised, though, when he had started to ignore them weeks ago, and they merely shot him pitying glances every so often when they thought he wasn't looking, and more often than not when he was with Tom. But neither of the two found fault with or confronted him, not when he first began to avoid them, nor a month later, and that was enough for Harry to keep on avoiding them whenever he could, and keep them out of his mind. For now. These days, neither seemed to even notice him any more, and that had hurt him, yet he knew that it shouldn't because it was his fault.

Harry sighed, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm himself. He had to agree with Tom's opinion of winter being the most uncomfortable and hated time of the year. Not that he even liked any of the others any more than winter. He liked summer, though, breaks and holidays and all that. And warm weather, for one - though it sometimes got quite stuffy indoors.

The snowflakes that poured downwards, covering the ground below, was beautiful to look at, Harry agreed, but it was beginning to get too cold for his liking. Although it was not as if going back inside the orphanage would make much difference. Inside the orphanage - without any proper winter clothing or central heating - it was a complete nightmare. Not as worse as the outside, but at least outdoors there was the sun to keep you slightly warmer. It was worst inside during night-time, as each orphan was given only a piece of blanket, and no extra clothes. The chilly winter air kept on entering the orphanage through the cracks in the walls and windows, keeping the residents cold and uncomfortable.

The mornings were equally as bad, and the only bearable time of day was during the afternoon, because by then the sun had already risen, and the temperature was bearable enough for the children to go outside to play and mingle with each other, or even to just bathe in the sunlight, which was exactly what Harry was doing just then.

-x-

It was no secret that Tom Riddle hated almost everyone - and everything. He especially hated the orphanage matrons, and most of the orphans at Wool's. He hated children, people that were younger than him that kept on pestering him, the older children who sometimes taunted him and bullied him and _actually got away with it_, and Martha, who continually kept on badgering him with chores and nagging him whenever any orphan came to her to complain about him. He did not particularly enjoy Mrs. Cole's company, either. Nor did he like the way that she ran the orphanage.

Wool's did not have much matrons to help out with the orphans, due to their limited funding's. Mrs. Cole did not let that get in the way of having a clean and well organized orphanage, though, and thus the orphans were given chores, to 'build up their character', as she put it.

Obviously, none of the orphans enjoyed doing their chores, and Tom, for once, was not an exception. None of the orphans liked to do their chores, but they had to do it, anyway, unless or otherwise they would like to be punished. Their punishments included them not receiving food for an entire day, followed by being left to do twice as much work that had been originally given to them.

But what Tom hated most about chores was not the physical labour - for he could endure that much; Tom wasn't _that_ weak, as thin and bony as he was. What he hated most was the commanding tone that the matrons used whenever they 'supervised' his work. And Tom could do nothing to stop them from using it, because he knew that he was walking on thin ice as it was. The only thing that was keeping him from getting kicked out of the orphanage, because Tom knew that no one actually wanted him to stay near them, of fear of getting hurt or injured due to his strange 'powers', was that nobody had any actual _proof_ that he had done anything, although Tom knew that everyone knew that when bad things happened, or when someone was found hurt and or injured, it was usually always his fault.

And besides, Tom knew that even if he did fight back against the matrons, he would get punished either way. He would then be forced to re-do his chores _twice_, and he would receive no meals for the day as punishment. Tom despised the way how the matrons thought they had a power over him - but then again, they did, and that was probably what irritated Tom the most.

Tom had decided the first time he was given a chore to do that wasn't picking up after himself, or cleaning the mess he had made, but instead cleaning _other_ people's mess, that he hated being forced to do something he did not want to do, especially when it did not benefit him in any way.

Tom liked being the one in charge. He did not like being forced into submission by people he just _knew_ were lower than him. Evans (he had never gotten used to calling him Harry in his mind, but he would work on that soon enough) never seemed to mind when Tom told him to do things for him - sometimes, of course he complained, yet still most of the times he did what Tom told him to do. He supposed that was the reason he was able to stand Evans' presence.

Tom didn't mind Evans, no, he would even go as far as to saying he enjoyed spending time with Evans. That fact, however, didn't make much sense to Tom. He hated everyone. Everyone - there weren't any exceptions - but then there was an exception. Harry was his exception.

-x-

Recently Tom had found his mind wandering away from him. He was distracted. He was thinking too much these days, more than what was healthy - and more often than not he had found his mind drifting off towards thoughts of a certain black-haired room mate of his.

But that was only natural. Wasn't it?

Evans (he really needed to start calling him Harry in his mind, but he would work on that) was most likely the only orphan he could bear to talk to. On second thought, Evans _was_ the only other orphan whose presence did not irritate or anger him in any way. Except when Evans- Harry, was being really annoying, such as that one time when he kept on persisting he'd apologize to that one boy he had scared off when he had found him riffling through his room in search of his 'lost' rabbit. In the end, they found the rabbit under Harry's bed. Tom still hadn't believed the boy lost his rabbit, however, and still had not apologized to him.

And Evans was interesting.

Tom grimaced, feeling the cold winter air brush lighty against his body. The clothes he had on himself currently were not enough to keep him warm on normal winter days, let alone during snow days. Tom loathed winter, for many reasons. One of them being his birthday, which would occur on a winter day, specifically on the thirty-first of December. New Years Eve. It was not that Tom hated his birthday, no, in fact he quite enjoyed his birthday, as a reminder of how he would be one step closer to leaving the ratty excuse of an orphanage - it was merely the fact of what happened on the thirty-first of December.

It was the day his mother died, and left him - abandoned him, in an orphanage, leaving him with only his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle - a name which he detested. A name his father had used, his father who had cruelly left his mother out on the street. Because Tom doubted his mother would of run away from his father, why would she? The only plausible excuse of why she had ended up in the orphanage was that his father had left her. His mother who was, by then, most likely already pregnant with him. Tom didn't understand why his mother would still love a man like that, loved him enough to name their son after him.

Tom had refused to believe that any one would do that - to leave other people alone out in the cold, to fend for themselves, at first. He used to, as embarrassing as it was, hope. Hope that one day his father, or anyone for that matter, would come to the orphanage, and take him away. But no one ever did. No one ever came for him, no one ever chose him over the other orphans to adopt out.

The others had said that it was only natural; he was a freak after all. The matrons, at first, never noticed how he was being bullied, no - not until it was too late, and by then Tom had already learned how unfair life was, and like it or not, he had to become strong if he wanted to live in relative peace. He had already discovered his 'powers' during that time, and was already using them on the others. And by the time a silent agreement had already been drawn up to avoid Tom Riddle at all costs, Tom had already lost all hope in humanity. That was before he met Harry Evans.

Tom felt a sort of possessiveness over the other boy. An inclination, if you will, to overthrow, to dominate - and to control. He supposed that he felt that way over everyone else, though, and Tom had always enjoyed being the one in control. Power was everything, after all. _There is only power and those too weak to seek it_, indeed. However, in regards to Harry, there was something else. Something he couldn't quite place; a sort of... protectiveness for the other boy. An urge to keep Evans safe, away from harm, too keep him away from everything and everyone else, and most of all - to keep him all for himself and no one else but him.

-x-

"Hey, Tom." Harry said, placing his tray down on the table and taking a seat besides his room mate. Tom glanced up at him, and nodded in Harry's direction, before returning back to his dinner. Harry sighed, having already grown used to Tom's behaviour. Tom never seemed to want to talk to him or do anything with him other than read whilst Harry watched him in silence, usually fiddling with anything that he could find. Most of the times, Harry grew bored having Tom as his only friend. Why did he even agree to Tom's order to stay away from the others, anyway? Tom could go... be by himself, for all Harry cared. And then Harry would be free... free from and to do what, though? Free from Tom? It wasn't as if he was a prisoner. And to do what? To make other friends, or play with his old friends? Harry didn't think either Amy or Dennis would accept him as their friend again, not after Harry had ignored and avoided them both for weeks...

"What's wrong, Harry?" Tom spoke up suddenly, and Harry's head snapped up towards his direction, only to be met with a concerned expression. Something Tom rarely, if ever, shown to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Harry had never seen Tom express anything other than... anger. And confusion, on how he acted, of all things, as if Harry was strange. Usually Tom just had a blank, expressionless face.

"Nah, its nothing." Harry said, stuffing a spoonful of mashed potato into his mouth. Harry didn't want anyone to worry about him, it wasn't like anything was really wrong, anyway. "Was just thinking."

Tom snorted, as if didn't seem to believe him, but did not question him further, instead changing the subject, asking him where he had done for most of his day. Harry didn't bother to think about why Tom was asking him the question, after all why should he? It was not as if it was uncommon to ask someone else about their day, after all.

Harry shrugged in reply. "Nothing, pretty much just stayed outside. You?"

"Same." Tom said, placing his spoon and fork down on his plate, already finished with his dinner. He made no movement to get up, though, instead he turned to look at Harry. "I was reading a book, out back. You were out front, right? I didn't see you."

"Yeah, I was." Harry nodded, smiling. "What book were you reading?"

Tom paused, turning to face Harry, who was almost finished with his dinner. "The one I showed you... ah, a few weeks ago? Do you remember?"

"Which one?" Harry asked, not quite remembering, before it hit him. "Oh. That one. The one from the library? Do you have a library card, or something?"

Tom ignored Harry's last question. "Yes, the one from the library." And then he changed the subject. "I want to show you something, Harry."

"Oh?" Harry asked, finishing the last of his dinner, before putting his spoon down on his plate. "What is it?"

"It can't tell you here." Tom said, and then stood up after noticing that Harry had already finished his dinner. "Perhaps in our room?"

"Sure." Harry agreed, standing up as well and followed Tom outside. Most of the children were still eating their dinners, which meant that the hall way was less crowded than usual.

"So what are you hiding, Tom?" Harry asked as soon as they entered their room, closing the door behind him. Tom walked towards the wardrobe, and took out a small box from inside of it. Harry leaned forward, curious as to the box's contents, but Tom closed it shut before Harry could take a look, and glared at Harry.

"Harry." Tom started, the palm of his hand covering the top of the cardboard box. "Have you ever met, or seen at least, a snake before?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the question. "Yeah. Why?" There were plenty of garden snakes out back, none of them were harmful, but the children avoided them just in case. Snakes were commonly found inside Wool's backyard, hiding among the grass and bushes. It was winter time, though, and Harry had learnt in school that snakes hibernated during winter

Tom paused, face set into one of deep thought. "What do you think of them?"

"They're. Well, okay, I guess." Harry shrugged, wondering why Tom was asking him this. Harry thought back to a previous conversation that he had with Tom, about Tom's snake that had been... killed. "Did you find a snake? Because you know, I don't mind if you've found one... and decided to keep it. Just don't bring it near me. They kind of creep me out. I don't mind them, though if that's what you're worried about."

"No. I didn't find one. I was just asking." Tom said, sounding oddly disappointed, yet relieved at the same time. Then he looked back down at the box below him, and made a strange noise that sounded somewhat similar to hissing.

"So, what did you want to show me again?" Harry asked, still curious.

"What are you talking about?" Tom replied innocently, taking the lid off his box and taking out a book from within it. And then again he closed the box before Harry got a chance to see what was inside of it. "I didn't say anything." And then Tom smiled, pushed the box back into the wardrobe, and closed it, before making his way to his bed and began to read his book.

Harry didn't bother to say anything else on the matter, he didn't think Tom would reply, anyway.

-x-

It was New Years Eve. Christmas had went and past, with not much happening other than the usual gift giving and Christmas feast - though it wasn't really much of a feast. The food was pretty much the same, same amount, same ingredients - the only difference was that they was added meat. And even then they weren't given much of it. The annual gift giving went on as usual. Each orphan above six years old and below twelve received one present, whilst the younger and older orphans received nothing. The matrons didn't think that anyone younger than that needed any, nor would they remember being given any, anyway. The older orphans were much too old for presents, as well. Even then, only the 'good' children got any, meaning that Tom, of course, did not receive one.

But speaking presents, it was Tom's birthday today, and Tom was now a year older than he was his last birthday. He had not received any gifts as of yet, however. It wasn't that he wasn't expecting that, and he didn't really mind not receiving gifts for his birthday, for he had never gotten one for his birthday, anyway. However he at least thought that Harry would give him one, but what Tom expected out of the boy, he didn't know, and Tom knew that he shouldn't really expect anything from his room mate, anyway.

The fact that it was his birthday didn't excite him, like it would the other children, but that was mostly because no one really cared that it was his birthday. No one had said anything, not yet, anyway.

"Hey, Tom." Tom was brought out of his musings as Harry waddled towards him, grinning childishly. "I heard it was your birthday." With that, Harry fell ungracefully besides him, and pulled his knees closer to his chest, wrapping both his hands around them. "And before you ask how I knew it was, Mrs. Cole told me."

Tom blinked, staring blankly at him. "Did she now?" He asked, carefully, watching Harry's expressions closely, as if he was an experiment he needed to study. And Harry was, sort-of.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "So, Happy Birthday, and New Years, too. Though I'm saying it a bit early."

"You, as well." Tom replied, and waited for Harry too speak again. But Harry stayed silent, and Tom took that as a chance to speak instead. "When is your birthday, Harry?" Tom didn't know why he asked, not really, but he asked him anyway, because it felt as if it was the right thing to do just then.

"October. The thirty first." Harry answered his question. "Its on Halloween, which is pretty cool when you first think about it, but its not really, since people tend to, you know, remember Halloween, instead, rather than your birthday. Not that it really matters. How old are you, anyway?"

"Old enough," Tom replied, shrugging. His age wasn't important, anyway. "Older than you are, at least."

"Right." Harry drawled, not at all impressed, and the looked away. Harry took a deep breath, and announced suddenly that he was going back inside, and made to stand up from where he sat besides Tom. "You coming, Tom?" Harry asked, turned to him, smiling, and held out a hand for Tom to take.

Tom felt hesitant, and did not move when Harry offered up his hand. Yet Tom, for reasons he didn't really know, let himself be taken; grasping Harry's outstretched hand, and allowed himself to be pulled up. Harry grinned at him, and Tom returned the gesture, still holding onto Harry's hand, and not releasing - not until they had arrived back inside the orphanage.

* * *

><p><strong>an** fuuu- wai is my writing sounding so... so... cliche? ; u ;  
>argh idk whatever. this whole story is cliche anyway. shot.

Their Hogwarts letters should arrive by the time the next chapter arrives. Also, er... I notice that this story's pacing is kinda slow. So if you don't like the insanely slow pace that I'm going at, hopefully I'll be able to speed up soon, yeah? if you do like the pace as it is, then just say so. I'd like to hear your opinions c: so, review?

also, anonymous reviewers should also realize they might not get a reply to their review. o u o  
>i usually reply to most reviews using FF's reply button. I don't know if you guys get the reply, though.<p>

but anyway - too **coolio**:  
>erm. i don't think so. Because Harry's not that kind of guy, you know?<br>But who knows. Tom is Tom, and you'll find he can be very... persuasive. /shot.

whenever a review isn't made, another wrackspurt escapes Luna's clutches,  
>and makes my head go fuzzy again.<br>causing me to write _worse_ than I already do.  
>do you <em>want<em> that? i doubt it.


	5. Chapter Four

**warnings **on first chapter  
><strong>disclaimernote, etc.** bottom of page.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

It was dinner time.

It didn't take a genius like Tom to figure out that, once again, they were served soup and potato. Harry was sitting next to him, stuffing spoonfuls of soup into his mouth - which Tom found disgusting, yet he chose not to reprimand his room mate on his table manners. Instead Tom ignored him through most of dinner, focusing solely on his food, among other things. At least, until Martha (who was one of the women who helped around in the orphanage) arrived at their table, saying that Mrs. Cole wanted to talk to him after he had finished with his meal.

Tom looked up from his meal, and nodded. "Fine." And Martha, satisfied with Tom's reply, quickly left the two.

"What did you do, Tom?" Harry asked as soon as Martha left. He was grinning as he scooted closer, moving his dinner tray along with him.

"What? I did nothing." He said, and he wasn't lying. Tom had done nothing wrong... or had he? He didn't know very much (nor cared, really) about what other people thought on what he should and shouldn't do, because to him it was all the same, really. They had no business to butt into his life, and besides - their opinions were unimportant. But apparently Mrs. Cole thought that it was her business to take care of Tom. Since she was there when Tom had been born, she took matters that concerned him into her hands. And Tom supposed he should be grateful to her - and he is. Sort of. And besides, since Mrs. Cole was the one in power in the orphanage, Tom didn't have any other choice in the matter, lest he wanted to be kicked out. Which he didn't.

But Tom didn't do anything that would be considered bad-

"Lies." Harry hissed, drawing out the _'s'_ like how Tom did when he was speaking to snakes. Harry leaned forward, abandoning his spoon, dropping it onto his plate. Harry's voice contained no malice, and his words were said jokingly. "You're always up to something. So, tell me, Tom, what did you do?"

-unless this was about Billy Stubb's rabbit. That was a possibility. It had already been a week since Tom had used his abilities to steal Stubb's rabbit and then hang it on the rafters, and four days since the rabbit was found, so yes. That was most likely it. But it wasn't like they had any proof that he did it. No one knew that it was him that had done the deed - he hadn't told anyone, not even Harry, and he had more than once checked to see if anyone was following him when he had done the deed. "I suppose I'll have to find out, then." Tom said, standing up, leaving his dinner left half-finished.

"You're leaving now? You haven't finished your dinner, aren't you hungry?" Harry asked, eyebrows knitting together, a worried look on his face.

"Not really. You can finish it if you want." Tom said, half-jokingly, remembering Harry's continuous protests about never receiving enough food to fill him up.

"Please, Tom, I'm not _that_ desperate for food." Harry huffed, glancing over towards Tom's half-finished dinner. "Or am I? Hm. Oh, bother. Yes, yes I am that desperate. Thanks, Tom." He said, grabbing his fork and stabbing Tom's potato with it.

"Right. You owe me, though. " Tom said, smiling sinisterly at his room mate. "You're taking my shift for room cleaning. I want it _sparkling _by the time you're finished."

"Wait- what?" Harry spluttered, already half-way into pouring Tom's soup into his own bowl. "No, wait, I changed my mind-"

"Nope, too late! No take backs!" Tom said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It was clear that Harry was rubbing off on him. He turned his back to his room mate, and swiftly exited the cafeteria, heading in the direction of Mrs. Cole's office.

Three sharp raps to Mrs. Cole's office door, and a affirmative coming from behind the door to allow entrance, and Tom found himself standing across of Wool's Orphanage head matron.

Mrs. Cole cleared her throat, her face stern and her lips pursed. Tom took a seat opposite of her when she motioned for him to do so. Tom took a seat, and sat in silence, deciding not to say anything until she spoke.

"Mr. Riddle." She started. "I'm sure that there is no trouble in regards to Mr. Evan's stay?"

_Right to the point, as usual._ "Of course, Mrs. Cole." Tom said, smiling charmingly at her. Mrs. Cole frowned, unaffected. The perks of knowing Tom since he was a small baby, he supposed. "Is there anything else?"

"Actually, Tom." Mrs. Cole said, face softening a bit - albeit not too much. "I also wanted to ask you if you had any information regarding to Billy's rabbit. I'm sure you've heard of the incident?" At Tom's nod, she continued. "Well, it's come to my attention that you and Billy had had a rather... large argument the day Billy's rabbit went missing. And two days later, we found it, _hanging on the rafters_. I'm certain that a rabbit can't possibly hang itself. Do you have anything, anything at all, to add to this?"

_'Oh, well, perhaps Stubbs was such an annoying little git that even his rabbit hanged himself, unable to bear to be in his presence.' _Tom blinked innocently up at her. "No, I don't."

Mrs. Cole narrowed her eyes at that, clearly not believing him. "I see."

"Is that all?" Tom repeated, getting bored. And slightly tired. What time was it, anyway?

"There is one more thing, actually." Mrs. Cole answered, and bent down, taking something out of her desk drawer. "This morning I received a letter, one that concerns you, Tom."

Tom raised an eyebrow, curious, and suddenly he did not feel very tired. "One concerning me...?"

Mrs. Cole gave a nod. "Yes-"

"Who is it from?" Tom interrupted, leaning forward. Tom didn't know anyone outside of the orphanage outside the teachers from school, and he doubted any of them would write him a letter. He didn't think anyone knew about Tom, either, unless, of course-

It couldn't be. His father? It was a possibility, and Tom was suddenly filled with a feeling of... hope. And it felt nice, somehow. But what if it wasn't his father- or maybe it could be a family member? A relative that had known that his mother had been pregnant, and was looking for _him_? Tom wanted to know, to know _so badly_, and Tom knew it showed on his face but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Its from a school." Mrs. Cole said, and immediately Tom deflated. A school. Not his father or his family or anyone that had wanted to... to want him. And he felt betrayed even though he knew it was his fault for... for hoping.

"I didn't do anything to anyone. Whoever complained about me is a _liar_." He spat, because he knew that that was the only reason anyone would want write to - or about - him. To complain about how freakish and unnatural he was.

"Oh? Do you usually get in trouble with the school, then?" Mrs. Cole gave him a _look_. Tom shrugged. "Don't worry, Tom, the letter did not contain any complaints whatsoever. Although now you've made me curious. Did you do anything bad recently then?"

Tom answered instantly, "No."

"Well, lets hope you didn't." Mrs. Cole said, nodding. "Actually, Tom, the letter contained an invite, for you, inviting you to school into a private boarding school. It's clearly apparent that you are more than quite intelligent, so perhaps that is the reason?"

"Perhaps." Tom agreed, growing suspicious. Surely that couldn't be the only reason? Sure, his marks were highest in his class, and he was smart - probably the smarter than most of the others - but surely that wasn't enough to interest a _private _boarding school?

"I'm quite worried, however, if you do choose to accept their invitation." Mrs. Cole said, and Tom stood silent, suddenly growing tense. "We don't want to cause any... unnecessary problems."

"There won't be." Tom said, blankly, trying to refrain from outwardly scowling at her accusing tone. Most likely Mrs. Cole would berate him for his manners if he did.

"Lets hope there won't be any. So then, Tom, do you choose to accept their invitation?" Mrs. Cole asked, and Tom sat in silence, pondering. If he did go to the school, that meant he would not need to stay in the orphanage for most of the year - which was good. But then what would happen to Harry whilst he was away? He couldn't trust the other boy to not reconcile with his old friends.

And what would he do about the school fee's? He was an orphan, for goodness sakes, he didn't have any money to pay for books and his school supplies!

"If you are undecided, Tom, a teacher from the school has volunteered to visit here to answer any questions you might have." Mrs. Cole interrupted Tom's thoughts. "Apparently, its a very special school-"

"A what?" Tom cut in. _Special? Are they trying to send me to some asylum? Do they think I'm mad, as well then? Did Mrs. Cole tell them I was? Did they think I need help? Is this some kind of school for troubled boys, for people with _'special'_ needs__? Because if it was- well, why am I not surprised._ "I'm afraid I'd have to reject, then. I'm not... I don't need any _special_," he hissed. "Treatments. I'm not mad."

Tom stood up, about to leave, ignoring Mrs. Cole behind him who blinked, slightly taken aback, before she corrected herself. "I know you aren't mad, Tom. I did not mean it in that way. Sit down." She commanded. "What I meant was that you, Mr. Riddle, have captured the schools interest. May it be due to your intelligence or your... unusual talents, I do not know - what I _do_ know, however, its that you have been invited into their school. Whether you choose to change your mind or not, is completely up to you."

After a moments pause, Tom answered. "I'll think about it, Mrs. Cole." And then added a second later: "I have some questions, so perhaps that teacher could..."

"Pay a visit? All right, Tom, I'll be sure to include that in the reply letter." Mrs. Cole said, taking out a pen and paper from under her desk drawer. "Now, I'm pretty certain that you're tired, so why don't you hurry off back to your room fora good's night rest?"

"Right." Tom replied. "Good night, Mrs. Cole."

"Goodnight, Mr. Riddle. Try not to get into any trouble."

Harry was fast asleep by the time Tom arrived in his room, and he couldn't be bothered to wake the other boy up. He didn't realize how tired he was, not until he had changed into his sleeping clothes and huddled up comfortably in between his blanket and his bed. Tom gave a small yawn, and fell asleep only a few minutes after.

-x-

"Mornin' Tom." Harry greeted, waving towards Tom's direction from the back door. Tom looked up from where he sat under a tree, and waved back.

"Harry." Tom said, watching as his room mate headed towards him. Harry's hair was as unkempt as ever, and there was a lazy grin on his flushed face. Harry slung an arm around Tom's shoulder, causing him to unwittingly tense up, but he didn't make any movement to remove his room mate's hand.

"You ate breakfast already?" Harry asked, and Tom nodded.

"Yes. I don't need to ask you the same question, Harry - I already know the answer to that, so instead I'll ask if you've any chores to do today?"

"Oh, ha ha, very funny Tom, don't be such a prat." Harry replied sarcastically, punching Tom lightly on the arm with his other hand. "And yes - yes I do have some chores to do. Which I should get to." He gave a groan. "Anyway, I'll be outside. Cleaning up the snow, so if you need me you know where to find me. Unless, of course-"

"I'm not helping you." Tom interrupted him, removing Harry's arm from his shoulder with a rough shove. "I'll be in my room."

"Fine." Harry huffed. "See you later, Tom."

-x-

Harry was tired. And bored. He wasn't even half-way finished with his chores, and he was already worn out. Not to mention the cold weather seemed to have been out to get him since he had first started.

Harry blinked wearily, and then again, and then once more. Apparently, he was hallucinating - unless the auburn haired man, with his long beard in and plum suit standing in front of him was real. Was he? Harry rubbed his eyes blearily. After a minute of staring, Harry trying to take in and comprehend the man's appearance, the man coughed, and Harry blinked out of his trance in surprise.

"Is there something on my face?" The man asked, smiling bemusedly down at him.

"O-oh." Harry stuttered, both surprised at the man's appearance, and embarrassed that he had been caught staring. "No, nothing. Er, did you need help?"

"Well, actually." The man said, leaning down, causing Harry to take a step back, not liking how the man was intruding on his personal space. He was kind-of weird, if his outfit had anything to do with it. "I'm afraid I don't know this place very well. Is this Wool's Orphanage? I have an appointment, you see, with one Mrs. Cole."

"An appointment? With Mrs. Cole? Oh, er, would you like me to get her for you?" Harry offered, it would be a good excuse for him to stop working for a while and head back in the orphanage - it would be warmer there.

The man beamed at him. "That would be nice, if you could?"

"Sure, just a moment." Harry smiled back, quickly abandoning the shovel he had been using to remove the snow off the pavement, and waltzing back towards the orphanage, the strange man trailing closely behind him.

He ran up the stairs, and opened the front door. "Mrs. Cole! You have a visitor!" Harry shouted as soon as he entered. He looked backwards, and shuffled to the side, holding the door open to allow the man entrance.

"You can come in if you like." He said, and the man did. Harry closed the door behind him after the man came in. Just before the door closed shut, Mrs. Cole came bustling downwards from the top of the stairs, talking over her shoulders to one of the helpers.

"...and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets - chicken pox on top of anything else," she said to no one in particular, and then her eyes fell upon the auburn haired man and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as surprised as Harry was when he first met him.

"Good afternoon," the man said, holding out his hand. Mrs. Cole simply gaped, and Harry couldn't help but snicker. Mrs. Cole ignored him still staring intently at the man. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked, and said feebly, "Oh yes. Well - well then - you'd better come into my office. Yes."

And then they left, with Albus Dumbledore - a name which strangely suited the man, considering how he looked - thanking Harry for his help. Harry nodded awkwardly. "Your welcome - er, I'll be out front if you need anything else." He offered, and Albus Dumbledore nodded. Harry watched as Albus Dumbledore followed Mrs. Cole through the corridor and into her office.

Harry wondered briefly what they were about to discuss, he was really, really curious. But he could think about that later. For now he had chores to do. He would finish them up quickly - and then he would tell Tom all about the strange man.

-x-

"I am here, as you may have read in the letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future." Dumbledore began.

"Yes. You've invited him into a school. Are you a family member of Tom's, then, to invite him into a private boarding school?" Asked Mrs. Cole, suspiciously.

"No, I am a teacher." Dumbledore corrected. "I've come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts."

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for." Dumbledore explained.

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth-"

"Who registered him? His parents?" Mrs. Cole asked, suspiciously. She didn't trust Dumbledore. There was something was wrong with his story. Things didn't quite add up. How could Tom's name been written down since birth, unless it was his parents, but then... but then... What was she thinking about again? She was getting quite old, wasn't she?

"Here," Dumbledore said, passing her a piece of paper- where had he gotten that? Oh, never mind. "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs. Cole gazed intently at the piece of paper, though her eyes were glazed over and unfocused. "That seems perfectly in order," she said, handing it back. She looked down and spotted bottle of her gin on her desk, and two glasses that she didn't remember putting there before. She looked back up at her guest, and offered him a glass.

"Thank you very much," he said, beaming. Mrs. Cole downed her glass in one gulp, and smiled at him. Dumbledore held his glass in his hands, and smiled back. "I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's History? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right." Mrs. Cole said, helping herself to more gin. She explained to her guest how on New Years Eve, a girl - not much older than she was herself - came staggering up the front steps, and gave birth to a baby boy. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa', and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty - and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father - yes, I know, funny name isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus - and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word."

She continued rambling on about Tom's history, drinking from her glass every now and then. "He's a funny boy." She said, finally.

"Yes. I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was... odd."

"Odd in what way?" Dumbledore asked gently, coaxing her to reply.

"Well he-" But Mrs. Cole stopped herself from speaking any more, her attention suddenly focused on Dumbledore and not her gin. "He's definitely got a place in your school you say?"

"Definitely."

"And nothing can change that?"

"Nothing."

She squinted at him, deciding whether or not she should continue. Apparently she decided she should, for she said soon after, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he's a bully?" Dumbledore asked.

"No... No." Mrs. Cole said, frowning slightly. "But its very hard not to notice how the other children avoid him. There's been incidents..."

Dumbledore did not press her when she stopped to take a sip out of her gin, but he was obviously interested in hearing what she had to say.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit... well, Tom said he didn't do it and I believe him for I don't see how he could of done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I don't think so, no," Dumbledore said softy.

"And then there was - there was the summer outing - we take them out to the country or the seaside every once in a while - see? And - well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwords. All we got out of them was that the both of them and Tom had gone to explore some cave - but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there's been a lot of things, funny things..."

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed from the amount of gin she drunk, her gaze was steady. "I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him," she said, and then muttered to herself, "Perhaps only Young Harry would."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently? He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer." Dumbledore said, not wanting her to misunderstand.

"I suppose so. Would you'd like to see him?" Mrs. Cole got to her feet, surprisingly steady, despite the amount of gin she had consumed.

"Very much." Dumbledore said, rising too.

Mrs. Cole lead him out her office and up the stairs, passing out instructions and admonitions to some of the helpers and children as they passed. "Here we are." Said Mrs. Cole, as they stood outside a wooden door, knocking twice before entering. "Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton - sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you - well, I'll let him do it."

She left the both of them to it, and quickly left. Dumbeldore scanned the room, before his eyes fell onto Tom, who was sitting atop a pile of blankets, legs stretched out in front of him, a book in hand. He looked up at Dumbledore, assessing him, his eyes narrowed slightly at his eccentric appearance. There was a moments silnce, before Dumbledore began.

"How do you do, Tom?" He asked, walking forward and holding out his hand. Tom hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore took the bed opposite to Tom, and sat on it, smiling genially at him.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor''?" Tom repeated, looking warily at him. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"No, no." Dumbledore reassured, smiling.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Finally had enough of me, has she? Already decided to give up on me? Tell the truth!" Tom commanded, glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds, Tom stopped glaring, though he looked warier still.

"Who are you?" He repeated.

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

Tom's eyes widened, and he leapt from the bed, backing away from Dumbledore, looking furious. "You can't kid me! The asylum - that's where I'm going. 'Professor', yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum! I never did anything - ask anyone, they'll tell you!"

"I'm not from the asylum." Dumbledore said patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you. Hogwarts, is a school for people with special abilities-"

"I'm _not_ mad!"

"I know that you aren't. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was a silence, in which Tom had frozen, eyes wide, staring at Dumbledore, trying to find any hint of untruthfulness in his eyes. "Magic?" Tom repeated, his voice barely audible.

"That's right." Said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic what we can do?"

"We?" Dumbledore questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Yes - yes, we, is that what we can do then?"

"Well, what is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Tom, a flush of excitement clear on his face. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. And he can do some other things, too!" Tom was trembling with excitement, stumbling out of his bed, staring at his hands, his book lay abandoned on top of the pile of blankets on his bed. "We- I can, at least, I don't know about him - but I can hurt people who annoy us. Who bother us - because we're different; I always _knew_ we were different. I always knew _I_ was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well you were right," Dumbledore said. "You are a wizard."

Tom lifted his head, grinning almost madly at him. "Is Harry a wizard too? Are you?"

"Yes, I am." Dumbledore said. "Who's Harry? I've heard Mrs. Cole say his name, as well."

"My room mate. Did he receive an invite too? To Hogwarts?" Tom asked, but didn't let Dumbledore answer. "Wait. I want you to prove it." He said, suddenly, in the same commanding tone he had used before. "That you're a wizard."

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you should know that I am to be your teacher, and you should treat me with respect. You will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir'." Dumbledore chided.

Tom's expression steeled for a moment, unused to showing much respect to anyone. He knew now that he had been acting too rash - and did not think of the consequences of his actions. He would have to be more careful once he arrived at Hogwarts. "I'm sorry, sir." He said, politely, calming down. "I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?"

"Perhaps later, after you've answered some of my questions?" Dumbledore asked, and Tom grit his teeth in frustration, getting impatient, but he answered in the same polite tone he used before.

"Of course, sir, what is it you wanted to ask?"

"Well, for one thing, you keep on mentioning a Harry? Who is, if I'm not mistaken, your room mate?" Dumbledore questioned.

Tom nodded. "Yes, Harry. He's out front, doing his chores. Is he coming, as well?" Sounding hopeful.

"I'm sorry to say that I haven't an invite for him." Dumbledore replied, solemnly. "Was he the one with black hair and glasses that was shovelling outside?" He said instead.

Tom blinked. "That's probably him. Did you meet him?"

"Yes, he's quite a nice boy. I'm afraid he's far too young to go to Hogwarts, though, judging by his appearances. But I'm sure he'll get his Hogwarts letter too. How old is he?"

Tom shrugged. He honestly didn't know - he had never bothered to ask. "I don't know... sir."

"Don't you? Do you know his birthday, then?"

"Halloween." Tom replied instantly, remembering a past conversation he had with Harry. "October. Thirty first. He says that sometimes people forget about it." Tom didn't know why he was talking so much - and so comfortably, with a man he barely knew, about _Harry_ of all people.

"Ah, then perhaps he'll get one on his birthday." Dumbledore said, his smile reappearing, and Tom perked up at the words. Harry would be there - with him, at Hogwarts; that was good. He wouldn't be alone, then. Who 'he' referred to, to Tom or to Harry - well, he really didn't care.

"Now, about that demonstration?" Dumbledore stood up, and from his plum suit took out a piece of what seemed to be a stick. "This," he began, motioning to the stick. "Is a wand. Wizards and witches use it to perform spells, for example-"

With this Dumbledore stood up, pointed his wand towards the wooden wardrobe, and setting it aflame.

Tom jumped in surprise, his eyes widened, howling in shock and rage. But before he got the chance to round on Dumbledore, the flames dissolved into nothingness, and the wardrobe was left unharmed.

There was a moments pause, in which Tom took turns staring in disbelief at the wardrobe and Dumbledore, before his eyes fell upon Dumbledore's wand.

"Where can I get one of them?" He asked, pointing towards the wand in Dumbledore's hand.

"All in good time. But before that, I believe something is trying to get out from your wardrobe." Dumbledore said from besides Tom - and how he got there without the other noticing Tom didn't bother to think about.

And sure enough the wardrobe was rattling, as if something was trying to get out - and for the first time, Tom looked nervous.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Hesitantly Tom walked towards it, every few seconds glancing back at Dumbledore, whose face held no emotion. Tom threw open the wardrobe door, and inside of it lay a small cardboard box. The box was shaking and rattling, as if there was something inside of it, trying to break free of its prison.

"Take it out." Dumbledore said, and Tom did. "Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?"

Tom threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir." He said flatly, lips pursed.

"Open the box."

Tom took off the lid, and, tipping off the contents onto his bed, revealed there to be a small pile of objects tucked away inside of it: a yoyo, a mouth organ and a silver thimble among the various other objects.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," Dumbledore said, calmly, placing his wand back into his suit. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom did not look even slightly abashed for what he had done. "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, "We teach you how to control your magic; you have, inadvertently, like many others, been using your powers in front of Muggles - non-magical people, which I shall warn you now is not tolerated in school, nor anywhere else. You should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic - yes, there is a Ministry - will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir." Tom said again, his face betraying no hints of emotion as he put back the cache of stolen items back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore, and stated, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied." Dumbledore said, drawing a leather moneypouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on second hand, but-"

"Where do you buy spell books?" Tom interrupted, curious, taking the heavy money bag with a small 'thanks'.

"In Diagon Alley. I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything - "

"You're coming with me?" Tom asked, looking up from the golden coin he had been fiddling with.

"Certainly, if you'd like." Dumbledore said, smiling softly. "I wouldn't want you to get lost, would I?"

"I... suppose not. But I'm used to doing things myself, and I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley - sir? I've never seen or heard of it before."

"Ah, well, it is hidden away from muggles, so I don't doubt it. But are you sure you don't need any assistance?" Dumbledore offered again, taking out an envelope from his pocket. "It will make things easier, and you could always come back again by yourself - though I wouldn't recommend that, its quite dangerous to go on with no one to accompany you."

Tom paused, contemplating, taking the envelope from Dumbledore's outstretched hand. "If you insist, sir. I suppose, if you could - ?"

"Of course." Dumbledore said, cheerily. "I'll visit again tomorrow, at around noon, if you'd like, and then we could go together?"

"Yes, sir. That would be fine."

"Wonderful! All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope. Your shopping list is in the first piece. There is a train ticket in there too, for when you will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September to arrive at Hogwarts. So be sure not to lose anything inside it!"

Tom nodded, and Dumbledore held out his hand. Tom took it. "Good bye, Tom, I shall see you tomorrow." And then the handshake broke, and Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good bye, Professor."

Dumbledore gave one last smile at Tom, before exiting and closing the door behind him, leaving Tom to ponder about what Dumbledore had said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN **sorry for the long wait - I've been... busy. But longer chapter to make up for it?

Also, Dumbly-dore! I hope he's not too out of character.  
>I copied some of their conversations from Book Six - and edited quite a bit, if you haven't already noticed.<br>Things turn out differently than in the six book - Tom actually agreed to let Dumbles accompany him, though he's still very wary of the man.

But who wouldn't be? You meet a strange man in a plum coloured suit with long auburn hair and a beard who invites you out to a place called 'Diagon Alley' with only just the two of you. Alone. Together. Whattt.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.  
>Drop by a review, if you can.<p> 


	6. Chapter Five

**warnings **on first chapter  
><strong>disclaimernote, etc.** bottom of page.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Tom watched as Dumbledore walked out of the orphanage from out of his window, making sure that the man had disappeared from his view before he jumped off his bed (the one that he had been using as a boost) and practically ran out of his room.

_'I'm a wizard.'_ Tom said to himself, feeling a strange burst of elation at the thought. Wizards existed. And he, Tom, was a wizard. He was going to a school where he would meet other wizards like himself, where he would be trained to become a proper wizard. He would be getting out of the rotten orphanage known as Wool's, and forever leave the place in the past.

_'I need to tell Harry about this-'_ Tom said to himself, his ste And then he had to stop mid-step, realization dawning upon him. _'Harry. Harry hasn't gotten his letter yet.' _But did that necessarily mean Harry wasn't a wizard? Dumbledore had said that his room mate was merely too young to go-

But then again Tom had never seen Harry do anything that he would consider special. He had only heard _stories_ of Harry's powers, - but his stories of his powers matched his own - never actually seen Harry use his powers (_no, magic._) and besides Tom was special, after all he knew how to control his powers and Harry didn't, and he doubted that Harry had lied to him about the whole thing. But, perhaps Harry was just a really good liar and he had been played a fool for so long? No- no, Tom wasn't the type to be fooled so easily. And Harry wasn't the type of person to do that. Was he? Tom didn't really know. He didn't really know anything about his 'friend'. And it irked him to no end that he didn't know _anything_ important about Harry, even when he had lived with the boy for- for how long?

He didn't even remember!

Tom pursed his lips, turning around swiftly and walking back to his room. There was no reason why he needed to talk to Harry about Dumbledore's visit, anyway. It was really none of his business.

"Tom."

Tom paused, recognizing the voice. He turned around to face the stern face of Mrs. Cole. "Yes, Mrs. Cole?" He asked, politely.

"Mr. Dumberton- oh, Dunderbore is gone, then?" Asked Mrs. Cole.

"Dumbledore." Tom corrected. "And yes, he just left."

"Ah. All right, then." Said Mrs. Cole, ignoring his correction. A pause, and then. "Well? Go back into your room. Don't cause any trouble."

"Of course Mrs. Cole." Tom said, already turning around to head back into his room. And then he turned back around, deciding to ask Mrs. Cole about his room mate. " Is Harry still outside?"

"Yes, though I'm quite certain he's done with his chores by now." Mrs. Cole responded blandly.

"All right, then." Tom said, and turned back round and walked back to his room.

-x-

The door banged open with a loud _thud_, and then Harry ran inside.

"Tom! Tom, you wouldn't believe what I just saw!" Harry gushed, practically pouncing on his room mate. Although in the end it wasn't his room mate whom he had pounced on, but his bed. "There was this really funny man-"

"Albus Dumbledore, yes. I know." Tom interrupted, sneering down at Harry, whose face was flushed, and clothes damp with sweat. "Off my bed, Harry. You're getting it all sticky."

Harry acquiesced, his mouth forming a thin line as he slid off of Tom's bed. "Fine, fine." He mumbled, taking off his shirt and throwing it onto the floor. "So you met him too?" He asked as he began changing his clothes.

"Yes, I did." Tom replied vaguely, turning his attention back to his book.

"He seems like a really nice man. His clothes are really cool. I don't think that I'd ever be brave enough to go out wearing _that_. I wonder what he was here for, though. Do you know, Tom? Huh?"

"Hm." Tom hummed in response, flipping to another page of his book. "Harry, how old are you?" Tom asked, ignoring Harry's question.

"Me? Oh, uh. Ten, I think. Why?" Harry answered, gathering the clothes on the floor and throwing them into a hamper next to the door, which he noticed he hadn't closed yet, so did.

Tom blinked, turned to Harry, and then shrugged. "No reason. Just- ... Wondering. _Professor _Dumbledore came to offer me a position in his school on a scholarship."

"Whoa- Really, Tom? That's so cool!" Exclaimed Harry, and then once again pounced on Tom's bed, shuffling into a comfortable position next to his friend. "I always knew you were smart, I mean you're probably smarter than all those adults at our school. So what school are you going to?"

"Hogwarts. Its a boarding school." Tom answered, scooting further away from Harry and subsequently causing Harry to shuffle closer until he was cornered into a wall, in which he then gave up attempting to move further from his room mate.

"A boarding school? Sounds cool. Wait, boarding school? That's uh..."

"It means I'll be living in the school, idiot." Tom explained.

"Oh! Cor - hey wait a minute. Doesn't that mean that you'll be living at your school?" Asked Harry, frowning.

"Yes. Didn't I just say that, Harry? Now stop scooting so close. Haven't you ever heard of something called personal space?"

"But won't that mean that you'll be leaving Wools?" Said Harry in a quiet, worried voice.

"Not forever, idiot." Tom sniffed, "just for most of the year."

"Oh. When will you be back?"

"I haven't even left, you know."

"Yeah, but. Still. When are you leaving, then?"

"September first. Now, stop hogging all my bed space - don't you have your own?" Tom asked, pushing Harry off of his bed, causing the younger boy to fall down with a _thump_.

"Fine." Harry grumbled, rubbing his back side as he slunk back to his own bed. "What about your school stuff? You don't have any money."

"Its on a scholarship, the school know's I don't have any money. They have a thing called student loans, you know."

"Oh." Harry mutters defeatedly. "Okay. Where are you going to get your supplies then?"

"Tomorrow. _Professor_ Dumbledore is going to help. Now shut up, Harry. I'm trying to read." Tom snapped.

"Fine, whatever, Tom."

-x-

Albus Dumbledore returned to Wools Orphanage the next day. That day his wardrobe consisted of a pink-coloured muggle suit, overlapped by a bright orange robe. The colours clashed madly against each other, and everyone that had walked past him had eyed his clothing curiously, wondering if the man was _mad_ or merely lacked any sense of fashion. Albus Dumbledore never seemed to notice, though, or if he did, he probably thought that they were sending appreciative glances towards his new wonderfully stylish wardrobe, if the twinkling of his eyes and the cheery whistling as he walked down the path to Wools Orphanage was anything to go by.

"Mr. Dumbledore, sir?" Came a familiar voice, and Albus looked down to see the small, green-eyed youth that he had met just the day before. "Are you here for Tom?"

"Why yes, yes I am my boy. Do you know if he's in?" Asked Albus, smiling down at the boy - Harry, was it?

"Yeah, Tom's outside. He's been waiting for you - but don't tell him I said that." Harry said, quickly, and then led Albus to where Tom was situated at. Tom was sitting down under a tree, an open book in his lap, and he seemed to be slightly distracted as he read.

"Hey, Tom!" Harry called out, immediately gaining the attention of said boy. "Mr. Dumbledore's here!"

"Hush, Harry!" Tom admonished, closing his book and making to stand up. "There's no need to shout. Professor Dumbledore, sir." Tom greeted, smiling charmingly up at him. Albus, however, wasn't fooled, but decided to play along.

"Hello to you, Tom." Albus returned chipperly. "How are you this fine day?"

"I'm fine, sir. Yourself?"

"Good, good. Well, are you ready to go now?"

Tom nodded, and handed the book to Harry. "I'm leaving. Take care of yourself. Don't get into any trouble, and remember what I said about Dennis and-"

"Yes, yes, Tom. Just go." Harry groaned, and Albus chuckles, watching as the younger boy takes Tom's book and gives (a very much surprised) Tom a hug, before running away.

"Well?" Albus says innocently, and Tom immediately snaps out of his reverie. "Are you ready, my boy?"

"Y-yes. Of course, shall we go, sir?"

"Have you brought your item list with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you brought your money?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you told Mrs. Cole you'd be leaving yet?"

"She won't mind." '_He hasn't told anyone but Harry he's leaving_.' Albus' mind corrects.

"Well, if you say so. Come now." Albus says, and soon they begin their journey to Leaky Cauldron, with Albus explaining to Tom the directions to get to the wizarding pub, and about the magical world in general as they walked. Tom seemed to be genuinely interested in what Albus had to say, though that was no surprise - most (if not all) muggleborn children were when they're first introduced to the wizarding world.

"So, only wizards can see the pub?" Tom questions, as soon as they arrive in front of the Leacky Cauldron. "How?"

"Magic, of course, my boy!" Was Albus' reply, and Tom scowled, for clearly that wasn't the answer he was hoping for. "And of course, there are also wards preventing muggles from seeing wizarding places. An example of one such charm is the muggle repelling charm."

"I see." Tom cocked his head to the side, processing the new information in his mind. "Thank you for the explanation, Professor."

"Always glad to help, my boy!" Albus said cheerily, as they both entered the pub. The Leaky Cauldron was, as usual, dark, damp, musty, and smelt of alcohol. Firewhisky, to be more precise; really, who would be drinking firewhisky so early in the afternoon?

"Hello, Tom." Albus said, sliding easily into a stool. Tom the bartender looked up from the glass he had been polishing, and gave Albus a toothy smile.

"Albus, the usual?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business. Tom, this is my charge for the day, Tom. Tom, this is Tom." Albus said bemusedly, inwardly giggling at his own joke. "Say hello, now."

Tom - his charge - didn't hesitate as he stuck out his hand towards Tom - the bartender. "Nice too meet you, sir."

"A polite one, aren't you?" Tom - the bartender - said, taking Tom - his charge's - hand and promptly shook it. "Well, shouldn't you be off now? Diagon Alley's going to get crowded soon."

"Do you want to order anything before we go, Tom m'boy?"

"No thank you, sir."

"Well, all right then." Albus said disappointedly; he had been hoping to impress his charge with various kinds of magical foods. Well, there was always next time. "We'd better get going, Tom." Albus nodded in the bartenders direction, slipping off the stool, and headed towards the back door.

"Professors, I think you entered the wrong door."

"Nonsense! This, Tom, is the entrance to Diagon Alley. I'm quite certain of it."

"But its just a brick wall-"

"Well, not everything is as it seems." Albus smiled mischievously, and took out his wand, tapping a few select bricks. A moment later, the wall began to shift and change, and soon there was no wall, and in place of it, was _the entrance to Diagon Alley_.

Tom's face remained impassive, but Albus knew that the boy was secretly in awe at the sight.

"Well, we'd better get going. You brought your shopping list, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Its right here-" Tom said, as he reached out into his pocket and fished out a neatly folded piece of parchment. "Where are we headed off to, first?"

"Why don't we get you some new robes first?" Albus suggested, and Tom nodded. Albus could practically feel the waves of anticipation and eagerness to get started.

Shopping with Tom had gone smoothly. They started at the North side of Digaon Alley, the first shop they entered was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, in which Tom had bought all of his wizarding clothes,

_(Such bright colours as usual, Professor Dumbledore. What a polite young man your charge is! Oh, dear, you're making me blush-)_

and had successfully charmed Madam Malkin so much that they had been given a discount.

Their next stop was to the Apothecary to get Tom's potions supply and ingredients. Afterwards they went to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment to get all of the necessary equipment, which included a set of glass phials, a telescope, a set of brass scales and a cauldron. These were then stored in Tom's newly-bought trunk, that had been purchased along with his equipments at Wiseacre's.

Their next stop was Florish and Blotts, where Tom seemed to have spent most time at, browsing through books and reading over them quickly before moving on to the next shelf. In the end, Albus had to practically drag Tom from the store, telling him on how he had to get his wand.

Needless to say, it was soon Tom that was dragging Albus to Ollivanders. Not literally, of course.

Albus had decided to wait outside, as Tom entered Ollivanders, wanting the boy to experience the most important moment in a wizards life on his own. Albus hoped it Tom's wand choosing wouldn't take too long. Or that Ollivander would scare his charge too much.

-x-

As Tom stepped into the establishment, he heard a bell above his head ring. As soon as he was inside, the door slammed shut behind him, causing Tom to jump in surprise.

"Well, hello there. I wondered when I'd be seeing you! Come in, come in, don't be shy. About time you came to me for a wand, isn't it?"

Tom turned around, and doubled backwards, once again in surprise, as a tall, lanky man with whitening hair approached him, grinning toothily.

Tom forced himself to smile back at him.

"I haven't seen you before. Here for your first wand?" The man questioned, and Tom nodded. "Good - excellent! What's you name?"

"Tom Riddle, sir." Tom said, and began to straighten up.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Riddle. Call me Ollivander. Now, your wand hand, Mr. Riddle?"

"My wand hand? Right, I suppose." Tom answered, sticking out his right hand.

With a snap of his fingers, a measuring tape floated by and began measuring as Ollivander began taking notes as well. With a snap, the measuring tape fell to the floor, and Ollivander began to shuffle towards the back of the store, only to return a minute later with stacks of boxes.

"Chestnut, Eight three-quarters, Dragon Heartstring. Give it a wave, Mr. Riddle." Ollivander said, handing over a wand, which Tom took, and began waving. Somewhere inside the store a vase broke. Ollivander snatched the wand away from Tom's hand.

"I apologise-"

"No, no. Here, try this, Hawthorn. Ten inches, hair from a particularly vain unicorn. No, not that either-" Tom hadn't even held the wand in his hand for a few seconds before once again Ollivander took it, and replaced it with another wand.

This went on for a quarter hour, in which Tom figured out that Ollivander's joy was in proportion to the number of wands that didn't suit him.

"A difficult one, aren't you? Here, try this. Ash, 12 inches unicorn hair- no, not that either. Hm, what about- yes, lets try that! Ah, here, Mr. Riddle. Yew, thirteen and a half inches, core of Pheonix feather. Well, give it a wave?"

Tom did, and immediately he felt a tingling sensation rush up his arm, and he suppressed a rather undignified shudder.

"Yes! Perfect - it seems we've found you a match."Ollivander seemed to whoop for joy, and somehow Tom couldn't blame him for doing so.

"Mr. Ollivander," Tom said, looking dazedly at his wand. "Could you perhaps explain to me more about wands?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Riddle. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore... These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand." Ollivander explained in a monotonous voice, moving to the back of the cashier. "That'll be ten galleons, Mr. Riddle. Thank you for your purchase."

-x-

In the end Tom's shopping Trip took approximately four hours, most of which were spent at Florish and Blotts. Dumbledore had walked him back to the orphanage, after expanding Tom's trunk_ ("this'll be out secret, won't it, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, winking mischievously at him)_ and storing all of his purchases in it. Dumbledore had also applied a feather-light charm on his trunk, so that he didn't need to drag his new trunk around because it was too heavy for him to carry on his own.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. I have a question." Tom said, as they stopped in front of Wools.

"Yes, my boy?" Albus prodded, curious as to what Tom might want to ask him. Tom was a very curious young man, with seemingly infinite questions. A Ravenclaw, perhaps?

"Can we use Hogwart's owls to send messages? I couldn't afford one on my own, as you know, and I was wondering if there was anyway to send messages without needing to buy one."

"Well, of course, my boy! The owlery at Hogwarts holds hundreds of owls - you can use any owl that you want to send your posts. That is, if the owls let you." Albus beamed down at Tom. "Well, its getting rather late, isn't it? I'll be seeing you on September first, my boy. Take care."

"Yes, thank you sir. You, as well."

* * *

><p><strong>an** happy halloween, guys.  
>uh. late update.<br>i was pretty uninspired to write this  
>so yes. sorry ; u ;<br>but um just for halloween, y'know? yeah.

pretty much wrote this in a hurry in, like, two-three days. but um, at least update? q u q


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